~Bella~
We drove in silence, Edward concentrating on the road. Nevertheless, he held my hand, his thumb stroking my skin constantly. I looked down at our joined hands; amazed at how mine disappeared into his, and how right it felt.
"Does that bother you?"
I looked up at him, frowning. "You holding my hand? No, I like it."
"My skin is rough, and my hands are calloused."
I shrugged. "If that bothers you, I can give you some cream from the shop that would help. Even my dad swears by it."
"But it doesn't bother you?"
"No."
"Huh," he muttered.
We pulled into a long driveway, set off by large gates and well-trimmed hedges. As we went forward, I could see a large house to the left, two-storied with a wraparound porch and lots of windows.
"My parents' place," Edward explained.
"You live at home?"
"Not exactly."
He pulled off to the right, down a smaller driveway to a large garage. When he pushed a button, one of the doors opened, and he pulled in, putting the car in park. I looked around curiously. There were several other cars, as well as his truck, in the structure.
"Dad loves cars."
"I see."
He opened my door, offering his hand. He pulled me along, up a flight of stairs, and we entered a hallway with two doors. He used his key to open the door on the left, and we went inside.
"This is my place."
A large living space was bright and open, with a galley kitchen to one side, a long counter separating the two spaces. A set of pocket doors were open, showing a bedroom. Dark hardwood floors, light walls, and wide windows made the space airy. The furniture was sparse—only a couch and one chair in the entire area. There was a TV in the corner, a desk and computer and a set of shelves crammed with books and CDs. There were also a few boxes were piled by the wall, and I spied more in the bedroom. Pictures leaned against the wall on the floor, still not hung up. There was another door in the room, which I assumed led to a bathroom. A sliding-glass door led to a balcony that held a table and a couple chairs. I imagined, in the day light, it had a nice view, considering the property it sat on. It was a great space and definitely masculine. It was clean, tidy, and minimal. It felt . . . unused.
"Nice."
Edward was watching me carefully, and I wasn't sure what he was expecting.
"So you live over the garage at your parents'?"
"Yes."
"I don't understand, Edward. Is that supposed to upset me?" I let out a nervous laugh, something about the expression on his face making me anxious. "It's bigger and nicer than my apartment. Do they have another one to rent?"
He tugged on his hair, pacing around the room, not speaking. He stopped in front of me, tense and agitated. "You asked me earlier if I had siblings."
"You said no."
"My mom couldn't have kids. I'm adopted."
That surprised me. "Oh . . . I didn't know that. You never said anything earlier."
"I don't like to talk about it. My parents were killed when I was very young. Carlisle and Esme took me in—they knew my parents. I only vaguely remember them. My mom always smelled like sugar, and my dad would pick me up and carry me on his shoulders."
"Those sound like good memories."
"I remember odd things, others not at all. I was only six. Carlisle and Esme have been my mother and father for most of my life. They are my parents, for all intents and purposes, and I love them both very much."
"I already knew that from the way you talked about them earlier."
"I had a good life because of them."
"I'm glad."
"My parents are wealthy, Bella. Very wealthy. Dad is a doctor, and Mom owns a successful interior-design company."
"Okay."
"I stress this, again. My parents are wealthy. I am not."
"And?"
"I'm a construction worker. I live here for the same reason I bought my car from my dad—to help save some money. Those are the only two instances I let them help me financially. I'm saving every penny I can to start my own business. I live here cheap, and although he denies it, my dad gave me a great deal on the car."
"Parents do that. They want to help their kids—adopted or otherwise."
He nodded.
"It's great they can help you that way, Edward. My dad can barely send me twenty bucks on my birthday."
That made him smile, erasing the worried look on his face briefly. Then he started to talk.
"My parents attend a lot of functions. On occasion, I go with them. I met my ex at one of those functions."
"I see."
"She was beautiful—smart, witty, charming." He grimaced. "At least at the time, I thought she was all that."
I could hear the pain behind his words. "But she wasn't?" I asked quietly.
"No."
"Were you with her for a long time?"
"Long enough—not quite eight months."
"Did you live together?"
"No. But after we broke up, I moved out of my place and into here. I needed a fresh start."
I nodded, now understanding the unpacked boxes and lack of any feeling of permanence. He wasn't settled.
"Kate was difficult at times. She was spoiled and from a wealthy family—used to getting what she wanted. But she wasn't unkind; at least I didn't think so. We got along well—at first. I thought we had a future."
"But?"
"It got to the point we were having more arguments than anything else. She wasn't happy with some of my decisions—most of them, come to think of it. She thought that if my parents were prepared to give me the money to start up my own company, then I should take it. She didn't like the fact I was one of the working stiffs, instead of the owner. When we first met, she liked that Edward Cullen—son of Esme and Carlisle—the one in the suit and tie."
"Did she know what you did for a living?"
"Yes. I was honest. I'm not ashamed of what I do. I love it, actually."
"But she didn't?"
"No. She, in fact, hated it. She hid it from me, but the day we broke up, she let it all out. She was certain, you see, that I would get tired of this 'phase' and let my dad bankroll me. She wanted to be with a businessman, not a laborer. I found out after she told people I was an executive, and owned my own business— not a construction worker."
"Did something bring it to a head?"
"Yeah. I was working a job site one day and saw her talking to some people outside a restaurant. I went over to surprise her. Let's just say, it didn't go over well."
"Why?"
"I looked like I did yesterday. I was dusty, sweaty. My clothes were dirty. She saw me approaching and the look on her face . . ." He frowned, pained embarrassment marring his features. "She was horrified."
"What happened?"
"She turned around and walked away from me. She didn't even acknowledge me."
I covered my mouth with my hand. I couldn't even fathom doing that to someone I cared for, never mind loved. "Edward . . ." I breathed out.
"We had a huge argument that night. She told me how much she hated my job—hated my stubbornness to insist on doing this on my own. She even accused me of lying and saying I was only pretending to be planning to start my own business. She had a long list of the things she hated. The dust. The dirt. My work boots. My truck. How calloused my hands were. How rough my skin felt. She even hated my uneven fingernails. She said she walked away from me because my appearance embarrassed her." He pointed to his chest. "I embarrassed her."
"She's the one who should be embarrassed."
"So we broke up. It was unpleasant and awful and yet . . . later, I realized I didn't miss her. I didn't miss the constant harping or her wanting to do things beyond what I could afford. I realized after a while, I had let things go on too long, and although it was ugly, it was for the best." He shrugged. "She wasn't the right girl for me."
"I'm sorry you went through that."
He stepped forward, his voice honest and strained. "I want you to understand. I need you to know this is me. This is who I am. I build things. Demolish them. I get dirty, sweaty, and I trail dust everywhere I go. I drive a truck. I don't have a ton of money. I'm much better with a hammer in my hand and wearing my tool belt than I am with a drink and a suit on.
"One day, soon, I want to open my own place. Be the one who makes the decisions. Runs the crews. I have a business degree—I know how to do it and when to do it. Jasper, Em, and I have it all planned. We know what we want, and we will get there. But I have to do it on my own. It's important to me."
"How do your parents feel about your decision?"
"They understand. They know how I feel about doing it on my own. They are very supportive, even if it goes against their instincts."
"That is only natural, I think."
He rubbed a hand over his face. "I suppose. I'm grateful for their support. But one day I will be more than just a construction worker."
"I know you will be." Edward had a determination about him; a drive that I knew would take him to wherever it was he wanted to go. "You'll make it happen. I have no doubt about it."
"Really?"
"Yes. I'm not her, Edward."
"I know that. I knew yesterday how different you were."
"Yesterday? I don't understand."
He closed the distance between us. "You refused to let me leave. You told me the dust didn't matter. You wiped it off my face and smiled at me." He laced our fingers together. "You let me touch you."
"It's just some dust."
"Not once, Bella, did Kate let me touch her, even come close to her, until I had showered and changed. It didn't matter if I had a bad day or something to tell her. Never. The last weeks of our relationship, she didn't even like to be close to me. She made me feel as though I was never clean enough, never good enough for her."
"Edward . . ."
"All I could think about last night was you. I've been thinking about you for weeks, wanting to know you, and now that I've started, I know something."
My heart was beating so fast I was sure it would burst through my chest. "What? What do you know?"
"I know if you walked away right now, it would hurt—more than Kate leaving. We barely know each other, yet I already feel so much. Just knowing you for one day, the thought of it makes me crazy."
His sweet declaration overwhelmed me.
"I know it's irrational, Bella. But it's honest. I feel something so strong for you, and I want you in my life. I just needed you to know the entire plan. I don't want to disappoint you. Because if you let me love you and then leave me—I don't think I would survive it. But if you stick with me, I promise you, one day I'll be the man you could be proud to call yours."
His words made my throat tighten.
"I won't leave you because of your job, Edward. I've been looking at you for over a month, too. I know you're a construction worker. I've known it the whole time. You work hard, and you have every right to be proud of what you do." I swallowed the lump that was forming, forcing myself to keep talking. "I'm interested in the man, not the work he does. I don't care how wealthy your parents are—you're the one I want a relationship with. I live a simple life, and I'm happy—money doesn't guarantee that."
"What are you saying?"
I cupped his cheek. "A little dirt or sweat doesn't scare me. You walking away scares me."
He covered my hand, pressing it to his skin.
"I would be so proud to call you mine. I don't need you in a suit to feel that way. I just need you to be my Edward."
His eyes darkened; his expression fierce. "Your Edward."
"Yes."
"My girl. My Bella."
"Yes."
"I'm going to kiss you now. And I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stop. You ready for that, girl?"
"Oh God . . . yes."
I barely had the words out of my mouth, and he was on me. He yanked me to his chest, lurching forward, pinning me between the wall and him, lifting me so my legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth devoured mine, an edge of desperation to his rough kisses. I threaded my fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp and running my hands along the back of his neck. Slowly, his tension eased and his mouth gentled. His kisses became deep, drugging, and passionate. Long, slow drags of his tongue on mine, gentle nips to my lips, teasing passes as our mouths pressed and released. Our breaths were shared gasps of air, the heat and wet of touches wanted and claimed. Edward's hands were never still, running up and down my back in long strokes, cupping and squeezing my ass as he pushed forward, his hard cock grinding into my heat as the fire built between us.
"Tell me to stop," he pleaded against my mouth. "Tell me."
"No," I breathed out. I traced the outline of his full lips with my tongue, teasing his bottom lip, until he sucked it into his mouth, pressing them together.
"I won't be able to let you go."
"I don't want you to."
He drew back, our gazes locked, chests heaving together. His eyes were dark with promise, desire eclipsing the green, determination in his gaze. "I'm going to take you to my bed and make you mine. Completely mine. I want to know every single inch of you. I'm going to use my hands and my mouth, and I'm not going to stop until I've discovered every part of you. Know how you feel. How you taste." Longing dripped from his words, making my body shiver in anticipation. "You need to tell me right now if you want that. If you're ready for that—ready for me. If you aren't, I'll take you home, and it will happen another time. But make no mistake, girl. It will happen. The when is up to you."
"Now."
His mouth was on mine instantly, as he carried me to his bed. My body was tight with need, my breathing fast, and flutters of nerves filled my stomach.
I expected him to throw me on the bed, rip away my clothes, and attack. I expected fast, frenzied fucking.
I got the exact opposite.
The fire that had burned in his eyes was now a soft, warm flame. He set me on my feet, peppering my face with kisses so sweet my chest ached. Tenderly, his hands pushed away my clothing, drifting feather light over my skin.
He murmured low words into my ear. "Your skin is so soft—I love how you feel under my fingers."
He kissed his way across my collarbone. "You smell so good to me, Bella. I want to drown in your scent," he whispered as he buried his face into my neck.
"Your hair . . . God, I fucking love your hair. I want to wrap it around my hands and hold it as I take you.
"Are you ticklish, girl?" he crooned, ghosting his hands down my sides, making me arch and giggle, letting him know I was, indeed, ticklish. He bent lower, capturing a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking. "Such perfect little breasts. They were made to fit into my hand."
He kneeled when all that was between us was a wispy piece of lace that matched my dress. Burying his head into my stomach, his hot breath drifted over me as he pressed his mouth against my center. "Mine. I'm going to make this sweet pussy mine."
I groaned as the lace disappeared, and he pushed me down on the bed. With a wicked grin, he slid his hands up my calves, gripping my knees and tugging my legs apart, leaving me open and naked to his hungry gaze. He didn't say a word as his hands drifted upward, the motion slow, his touch burning as it drew closer to where I was aching for him. One touch; that was all it took. One light, caressing touch of his finger, and I whimpered, undulating as he watched, his gaze dark.
"Do you want me, Bella?"
"Yes." I moaned.
"You're ready to be mine?"
I reached out for him, pushing his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. "Please, Edward."
With swift moves, he was naked in front of me. Tall, with muscles in all the right places, he was spectacular. Broad shoulders, strong arms, and a chest that rippled with power; a long torso leading to a trim waist, down to where his cock stood proud, jutting out, thick, long, and solid. I inhaled sharply at his size, my pussy throbbing at the thought of him buried deep inside me.
Bending, he hovered over me. He lowered his chest to mine, the hardness of his muscles rubbing against the softness of my breasts, the wiry hair chafing my sensitive nipples. He captured my mouth, kissing me deeply as he wrapped his arm around my waist, moving us both up on the bed. He leaned back, breathing hard as he reached into his drawer, and held up a condom. "I'm clean, Bella. I was checked after Kate, and there's been no one since then, but I want you to feel safe."
I held his arm. "I'm clean and get the shot. We're both safe."
He hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"I want to feel you. All of you."
He dropped the condom, bringing his face close to mine. "You are going to feel me, Bella. I promise you that."
Thinking of his size, I groaned in want. "Please."
He skimmed his hands up my arms, his touch gentle. Gathering my hands into his, he lifted them over my head as he settled between my hips, the blunt head of his cock nudging at my entrance. I wrapped my legs around his hips, our gazes locked as he slid in, inch by delicious inch, until he was so deep our bodies were melded together. He stilled; the expression on his face one of intense pleasure.
"Bella, girl," he breathed out. "You're like liquid heat, baby. So fucking perfect." He groaned, covering my mouth with his.
I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him close, as the kiss deepened and he began to move. He used long, slow thrusts, one hand holding my hands over my head, pinning them to the mattress, and the other gripping my hip, pulling me to him, matching his movements. I moaned into his mouth as the pleasure built. His hands tightened as his movements quickened, his thrusts powerful, his mouth demanding, and his own groans rumbling through his chest. My body began to stiffen as every part of our bodies connected, his entire being surrounding me. I shattered, and his name burst from my mouth, and he buried his face into my neck, cursing and moaning as he shook and emptied himself inside me.
He stopped moving, his breath hot and heavy on my skin. He pressed his lips to my throat, whispering my name as he released my hands, letting me wrap my arms around his thick shoulders, stroking the damp skin.
"Bella," he mumbled. "Baby . . ."
"Shhh," I crooned, hearing the emotion in his voice. "I've got you, Edward. I have you, and I'm not letting go."
His entire body shuddered, and he relaxed, rolling to the side, drawing me to his chest. "Just hold me."
I enveloped him in my arms. "Always," I promised.
So . . . yeah. We'll leave it there for the week.
Thank you for reading. Thanks to MC for her beta work.